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A book of Bristol sonnets

By H. D. Rawnsley

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TUMBLER PIGEONS, OVER BRISTOL.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


85

TUMBLER PIGEONS, OVER BRISTOL.

To me ye seemed a falling flower wreath,
Ye giddy aeronauts, ye tumblers rare;
Whose stage is cushioned with elastic air;
Whose meed, our eyes of wonder from beneath!
Soft-winged dissemblers, are ye friends with Death,
Or, childlike, of your perils unaware?
Say, trust ye Heaven so well, that ye may dare
To lose your life, and take again your breath?
Angels of light, swift worlds of loveliness,
Ye wheel above pale labour's closest strife;
And, in your health's exuberant excess,
Cheer sinking hearts with whispers of your life!
Bright ministrants of God, the whiles ye hover,
Rare Heavens of peace our wearied eyes discover!
 

Some scientific authorities have hazarded the conjecture that the fall of the tumbler pigeon is the result of temporary paralysis of nerves in close conjunction with the brain.